"You bastard demon, Thulung Dungma!!"
The words rang out across the mountain peak, full of rage, spoken by a man who had carried hatred for years.
"You killed my entire clan for power," he continued, "but today—today!! I will see your death!"
The wind twisted as black clouds gathered overhead. Rain lashed down sharply, and lightning tore across the stormy sky. From the corner of the peak, Thulung Dungma smiled faintly, unshaken by the storm or the thousands who had come to kill him.
The man's voice grew louder, trembling with fury: "You arrogant bastard! Now you will die!"
Thulung Dungma's lips curled into a cruel, cold smile. His voice was calm, yet heavy with the weight of centuries:
"Die? You fool… I have lived a hundred years, bathed in blood and shadow. You think your anger can end me? No—today you may strike my flesh, but my curse, my wrath, my name… will haunt you long after you fall."
The man screamed in rage, "Killed by you, foolish humans!"
Thulung Dungma's crimson eyes glinted under the stormy sky as he replied,
"I… Thulung Dungma… even if I die today, I have no regrets for the work I have done. Even if this is my end, in my next life, I will always choose the demonic path again."
Thunder roared in answer, and lightning cracked the peak. The storm seemed to bend around him, as if the very world feared the presence of the legendary demonic master. Even in the face of thousands, Thulung Dungma stood unbroken, a dark smile playing on his lips—a shadow of death, a harbinger of terror, eternal and unyielding.
Thulung Dungma began his self-destruction. A terrifying energy radiated from him, twisting the storm, shattering the peak. The thousands who had come to kill him froze in horror, panic gripping their hearts. Some tried to run—but it was already too late. The destructive force engulfed the ground where they stood, lightning and fire merging into a storm of annihilation.
---
Hundreds of years ago…
"Hey… what's happening to the young master? Why isn't he moving?" a voice asked, trembling.
"I… I don't know," another replied, panic barely held in check.
Those words, faint yet haunting, whispered through Thulung Dungma's mind across centuries, reaching his ears as if the past itself were alive. A cruel smile spread across his lips, crimson eyes glinting with ancient fury.
Thulung looked around, then down at his hands. He was startled — they seemed so small. A faint smile touched his lips as a thought crept into his mind: Have I been reborn into my past life?
He turned and saw who sat upon the throne. The man regarded Thulung with a measured seriousness. In Thulung's memory, the figure was unmistakable. He is my father, Thulung realized — the patriarch of the Magar family, a man whom everyone respected. In his previous life, his father had shown him only disappointment; he had been ignored, belittled, and bullied. The memory of that pain tightened in his chest.
"Young master, what are you doing? Please choose a sword — everyone is waiting," a voice whispered. Thulung looked toward it. He is my father's adviser, he thought. Nāyaka Thunthu — cunning, sharp; nothing escapes him.
Today was the child's test: the Sword-Choosing. Only a two-year-old's test, but its consequences stretched far. A child who chose a lesser blade was doomed to a lesser fate. Thulung's jaw set. He already knew which sword he would take.
Gasps rippled through the great hall. Eyes widened in disbelief as the small child's hands reached for a blade no one dared to touch.
The ancestral sword.
The Dark Sword.
A weapon that had been passed down through countless generations, whispered to hold both glory and calamity.
"The young master… he chose the Dark Sword!!" a man cried out, his voice trembling.
In that instant, the entire hall erupted with murmurs. The adviser, Nāyaka Thunthu, stood frozen, shock etched across his face. Even the patriarch himself, Thulung's father, was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a faint smile.
With deliberate steps, he rose from his throne. The storm of voices hushed, and all eyes turned to him, waiting for his judgment.